


Froideveaux Friday

by TiredTree



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Freaky Friday Fusion, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Body Image, Bodyswap, Bottom Will Graham, Comfort, First Time, Freaky Fic Friday, Hand Jobs, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Protective Hannibal Lecter, Rimming, Romance, Top Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 05:40:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29431119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiredTree/pseuds/TiredTree
Summary: Will Graham is not sure of who he is. He is even less sure when he switches bodies with one of Hannibal Lecter's patients. He goes to Doctor Lecter to make sense of things, and perhaps find himself. Freaky Friday Fic starring Franklyn Froideveaux.
Relationships: Franklyn Froideveaux & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham & Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Kudos: 56





	Froideveaux Friday

**Author's Note:**

> The timeframe in this story is loose and does not adhere to the show's, but Will does not yet know fully who Hannibal is. I hope you enjoy it! This is all for fun and not meant to be taken too seriously. It is also my first ever fic. Happy Valentines Day!

Will shuffled around the buffet, his body tight, curling into itself to keep himself small around others. It was later in the evening of a long day, a day Will didn’t have the energy to cook after. Chinese takeout, always delicious, filling and most importantly- easy. 

While very few were actually in the restaurant, he still wanted nothing more than to get in and get out. Get back to the dogs. Get back to his boat in a sea of fog, surrounded by empty land and unending silence. 

He plucks a couple rangoons out with the tongs and places them in his container, the last touches on a gourmet meal. A lovely garnish for his noodles. He thinks he may have to bring some to Doctor Lecter sometime, if just to see the look on his face. The lights in the shop are warm, the walls colored red and decorated with gold signs and paintings. It’s like swimming in a candle. 

Closing the lid of his white box, he begins to scurry past the tables of patrons, unsure if he should judge the people eating alone or envy them for their ability to dine in public without a deep sense of unease. He keeps his eyes down, glasses up, beelining for the register. 

Suddenly, a short but robust force invades his space, bumping into his slim frame and causing him to drop the fortune cookie sat atop his takeout box, he had laughed when he picked it up, wondering what useless or downright depressing fortune he would get this time. They were never good.

The man who bumped into him had a dark beard, a set of curls, much like himself. He laughed openly as he apologized for his misstep. “You were quite in a rush! I’m sorry I got in your way.” He smiled, bending down to join Will who had gone to retrieve his fortune cookie. Will picked up the one closest to his shoe and nodded quickly, saying “sure, sorry” in a hushed agitated tone. Franklyn Froideveaux grabbed the cookie closest to him, after two of his fell off his box at Will’s feet. 

He raised his eyebrows and chuckled once more as Will continued past him with nary a second thought. Nothing could be easy. Every interaction had to be uncomfortable. Can never be a simple in and out. 

His jaw set, he tipped generously, mumbled a goodnight and then found the door quickly. Little bells dinging above his head as it slammed shut behind him. 

Franklyn pursed his lips and took his food back to a table for a couple of bites, alone in the corner, pleased with the soy sauce ratio he had going on his food. Though a buffet was not among finer things, and though he would not catch Doctor Lecter here, he was glad for that. Everyone needed to let loose, once in a while. 

He stretched out his legs, admiring the dark of the evening outside the window and began as he always did, by opening his cookie. Franklyn, though it was silly, believed if you ate your cookie first your fortune would come true. He cracked it open like the leg of a crab, plucked the little white paper out and set it aside as he ate the bland, yet sweet, treat. Thumbing at the crumbs in his beard, he leaned forward, elbows on the table and picked up his fortune. 

Holding it up to his eyes, spreading the paper between his fingers he read in his mind, “A journey soon begins, its prize reflected in another's eyes when what you see is what you lack then selfless love will change you back.”

His brows had no time to furrow before an intense rumble set upon the walls and the ground, his take out box clattering around on the plastic table top, the bells jingling violently at the door and their sound invading his ears. It lasted for about 10 seconds, if he could count it right. His hands had gone white from gripping the table, frozen in his spot, soy sauce ratio completely destroyed. 

Franklyn looked around at the rest of the patrons, though sparse that they were, they were completely unmoved. Laughing or sitting calmly like nothing had happened. Like the building hadn’t shook. Like there hadn’t been a damn earthquake. 

He trembled slightly, eyes wide as he looked around but nothing changed. No pictures moved from the wall. No one paid him a second glance. He stuffed his box in a while bag and left the fortune on his table, forgotten, as he scrambled out of the building. 

A distance away, Will spent 2 hours googling “Earthquake, Virginia” with no new results. He decided to drink just a tad more than usual and call it a night. 

***

Doctor Lecter spent his morning sketching, Theseus defeating the minotaur, a monster half man and half bull which devoured seven Athenian boys and seven Athenian girls sent to the island of Crete every 9 years. His eyes nearly swelled as he shaded in the musculature of the dark haired man atop the monster, beauty unparalleled, striking, and familiar. 

A loud, insistent banging on his door broke him from the calm trance that his drawing afforded him. Though this interruption was incredibly rude, it did strike him that it also sounded quite emergent. He sighed deeply, leaning back momentarily and covering his sketch tenderly away from whatever nuisance pounded at his serenity. 

Hannibal pushed himself up from the desk, straightened his shoulders, and pulled his veil over his face once more. 

He strode to the door quickly, opening it without saying a word, before him a frightened man stared back- the gush of wind tossing his curls playfully. 

“Franklyn,” Hannibal let the words escape his lips with as little malice as physically possible but it seeped in all the same. He held his face tight, attempting to control the twitches that surged through the muscles beneath his skin, a snarl held at bay with string. 

“This is not your appointment hour. Please do inform me why you have intruded so hastily, is there an emergency?” 

Franklyn’s eyes were wide, as if every word spoken by Hannibal was the worst news he had ever heard in his life. Both their brows furrowed at each other, and Hannibal could see the shakiness in Franklyn’s frame, he could smell the pungent fear that coursed through him like blood itself. 

“Don’t….Don’t call me that…” the shorter man said, hushed, through gritted teeth. He looked away from the doctors eyes and through him, into the office. Without saying another word he pushed past Hannibal, making careful not to touch him, and invited himself in- pacing between the chairs. 

Hannibal was, after all, a man of self control and composure. Yet, it took a great deal of effort not to snap Franklyn’s neck like a piece of graphite. 

The doctor twitched minutely at the intrusion and cocked his head, taking in the situation as relaxed as possible. His broad shoulders lowered under his control. “Franklyn. Please tell me what this is about.” he spoke slowly and smoothly. 

Franklyn was shaking his head, he was mumbling to himself, he was biting his inner lip raw and trembling. He could not look up, he could not settle and stop moving. 

“I’m not...I’m not Franklyn.” He stuttered, eyes raising slightly to look at Hannibal before they retreated again. He winced when he heard a quiet chuckle leave the doctors throat.

“None of us are true to the perceptions others see us as. There is no one of any person, we have multiple facets.They exist simultaneously. Why are you not Franklyn, today?” he probed, shutting the door with a soft click. He will allow five minutes to this tantrum, and then he will direct Franklyn to the exit. 

“Stop” the man muttered, “Don’t. You don’t understand Doctor Lecter….I can’t say it. I don’t know what’s going on.”

Once more, Hannibal cocked his head, “What can you not say?”

“I’m not Franklyn.”

“We’ve established this.”

Franklyn snorted. 

“My name….it’s Will….I’m Will Graham.” he choked out, the words thick and desperate between forgein lips. 

The doctor stared at him with a completely blank face, taking in the words and stiffening even further, his hand reached for the handle of the door. “That is extraordinarily inappropriate. I don’t know what this is, Franklyn, but quite honestly I am disturbed and deeply uncomfortable with you playing this...game, and involving Mr.Graham. Please see yourself out immediately.” 

Franklyn groaned, loudly, running his hands over his face wishing he could pull it off. He shook his head, a soft whimper catching in his throat. 

“No.” he refused, taking a step away from Hannibal and away from the door, “No Doctor Lecter it’s me….listen, I don’t know what's going on, I don’t know what this is but when I woke up I was not me. I was….him, whoever this is, this Franklyn... you keep saying….” his face was contorted as it all resonated in his brain. He could barely think. He needed an anchor. A paddle. 

“One of your...patients? Oh God. What is this?!” 

If Hannibal thought of snapping Franklyn’s neck before, he was all the more sure he might just have to do it now. He knew his patient was obsessive and neurotic but this was something different entirely. And to drag Will Graham into it? That was just asking for it.

“Please do not make me remove you by force.” he spoke, a quiet rage still vibrating in his bones as his eyes darkened and lowered. 

“Doc-Hannibal….please” he whispered, a small prayer, a chance to be seen through a suit that was not his own. “I-I can prove it to you.” He paced further, rubbing the back of Franklyn’s neck with his hand, feeling muscles that were tense and did not belong to him. 

Hannibal’s eyes narrowed, the snarl reaching his lip finally, and he straightened his jacket once before he made his way to the intruder.

Franklyn looked into his eyes, wide as they were and held up a hand before speaking, “Our first meal together was a protein scramble, you made it for me, you brought it to the motel-” he breathed, begging the doctor to at least try to listen. 

“I-I know this isn’t physically possible, Hannibal, I am not sure if this is another nightmare or if I am drugged out of my mind, or- or dead or something I don’t know what this is.I understand why you don’t want to listen but please.” 

He was intrigued, at this point, despite his better judgement. How Franklyn had found that out, what lengths he must have gone through to pull a charade like this- it was impressive. Why would he ever do this? Even Will Graham wouldn’t be able to imagine that. 

“I will say, you have gone through quite the effort.” Hannibal nearly chuckled, but the venom in his voice remained present. 

Franklyn signed, rolling his head and shaking it, tears were nearly welling in his eyes. He knew Hannibal would not believe him, and he couldn’t blame him of course. This was impossible. It was quite literally insane. Maybe he was already in a cell at BSHCI, off his rocker, so to speak. Maybe he was lying on a cot, drooling into his pillow, hallucinating Hannibal’s office. 

Maybe he was. Maybe he wasn’t. Not much to lose, either way. 

Hannibal allowed him one more moment to compose himself before he took another step, arm reaching out to grab Franklyn by his arm, or his neck, he hadn’t decided yet. The man put his hand on Hannibal’s forearm, stilling him once more. 

“The-the mongoose you want under the house…..when the snakes slither by.” his fingers tightened around Hannibal’s arm. Desperate for a connection. For Hannibal to reach back.

Hannibal did go still, his breath settling in his lungs where even his chest wouldn’t rise, his face once more falling blank as he searched the man’s eyes. 

Will’s hand slid down, resting atop Hannibal’s own, not retreating further but not grasping. Just lingering, begging for acceptance. He could feel the conflict in the doctor, the shock, the confusion, the familiarity. 

“It’s me.” he whispered, and with this his tears did blur his vision, casting Hannibal into a painting of smudged earth tones, gentle and natural. 

Hannibal did not speak. He knew he wasn’t seeing Will, but he felt him. As sure as he had ever felt another person who he knew and cared for. How you know, like you hear the footsteps of someone you love and know it to be them despite your lack of senses. How you sense their breathing, as if you know their lungs intimately. 

“Abigail. Mischa. Please, Hannibal.” he swallowed and let his fingers slide down the doctors before bringing them back to his stranger’s body. 

Hannibal’s chest tightened. It felt oppressive, this feeling of knowing. Perhaps both he and Will were high out of their minds. Or insane. Maybe dead.

He could see Hannibal’s eyes moisten, though his face was stern and stoic, in that moment he knew. 

The doctor withdrew himself from Will, looking around his office, he took a deep breath and walked to his desk, pulling the small notebook off the table. He held it and a pen to his breast, before approaching Will and offering them out. The tremble in his hand would be undetectable to most people, but he himself felt he was shaking like a bush in a storm. 

Will looked into Hannibal’s eyes as he accepted the items. He opened it to a blank page immediately, as he had done so many times before, and drew a clock face. 

“It’s 8:30 am. I’m in Baltimore, Maryland, and my name is Will Graham.” 

He handed the book back to Hannibal, grimacing when he saw a hand that did not belong to him offering it up. He swallowed, trying to keep the stomach acid from crawling up his esophagus. He had nothing left in him to vomit, it all came up this morning. 

Hannibal took the book, opening the page, his heart paused as he looked at the clock face. Askew, as it always had been when Will drew it. Something Will himself did not know. 

“Will.” he breathed, looking into Franklin's face with emotion mixed between horror and unmitigated concern. 

Will looked into his eyes, face finally falling as tears escaped the brink they had been held at. He wasn’t sure why this final test made Hannibal believe him. He couldn’t possibly care any less. It felt so good to be seen, even if it solved nothing. 

He sobbed openly, loudly, and hugged his arms to himself as his body racked. 

The doctor’s eyes were soft, sympathetic, he touched Will’s shoulders and guided him to the chair he always sat in. Will went down with a thud and sucked in great heaps of breaths as he cried. 

Hannibal dragged his chair close, and sat, their knees interlacing. “Will.” he said once more, taking Will’s hands in his as he searched for Will’s eyes through the sea of water. Will shook his head, unable to speak. He had not let himself break this fully since he awoke, he didn’t know what would happen if he did. 

Hannibal’s hands were large, they were familiar and warm. They were grounding. 

“I don’t know what this is. But I believe you.” he whispered, as if they shared a secret. His thumb rubbed at Franklyn’s soft hand, and he made note to look Will in the eyes solely. It was too confusing to look at any other feature. 

If he looked hard enough, Will’s eyes were right there, and he could see everything. 

“I-I woke up….in this body. I threw up until I couldn’t anymore. Then I came here…” he whispered back, swallowing heavily, “ I thought about driving off the bridge. I thought about….” his eyes were wide as plates as he stopped speaking. Hannibal knew what he meant. 

“That is not the answer to whatever is going on.” he squeezed Will’s fingers in his. 

“What is the answer?” Will looked down, allowing his fingers to touch those enclosing his. He wonders when this level of intimacy was afforded to them. Taking a deep breath, he wonders when it became so calming. 

Hannibal’s eyebrows raised as he considered, “To be honest, I am for once in my life at a complete loss on how to proceed. Tell me what the last thing you remember is, the last you remember in your body.” 

Will laughed, his body shaking involuntarily as he did so, “I um, I got chinese food. I ran into this gu- into Franklyn, I suppose. I went home. I ate and then there was the earthquake.”

“Earthquake?”

“Yes. My house shook. I tried to look up information about it, but there was nothing.”

Hannibal pursed his lips and patted Will’s hands mindlessly as he mulled over the words, “It seems that is all connected. Franklyn. The earthquake. We may not know what it means but it is a step in the right direction, knowing where it may have come from, somehow.” 

Will wanted to shut his eyes. If he shut them hard enough, it was as if nothing was amiss. He wasn’t in a stranger’s body. He was Will, sitting in front of Hannibal, talking during their session. Talking to a friend. 

“I am so frightened...it makes me ill.” it comes out through gritted teeth, his eyes shut tight. 

“I will admit, you landed up in one of my most obnoxious patients.” Hannibal laughed, he closed his eyes with Will. Imagining they were themselves. 

“Ha” Will’s laugh was clipped, he shook his head, “great.” 

“In his defense, though, he is the least psychotic of the bunch. Not including yourself.” the doctor said back with a smile, knees pressed against Will’s with the intent to ground him further in their present moment. 

“I don’t suppose you’ll tell me he’s fantastically wealthy.” Will’s breath came easier, on the wave of smiles and laughs, though his stomach still curled inside him and twisted. It was easier. 

“Not enough to make this worthwhile.” 

Will smiled and opened his eyes to see Hannibal staring at him, into him. He could be nothing but keenly aware how alien his skin was. 

“Can you still stomach me like this?” he whispered, a twinge of sadness in his eyes, “No one else will recognize me. I am completely alone here. You’re all I’ve got.”  
The words were confident but the sentiment behind them was not. He was not Will, anymore, no one would be able to see him for who he was, and Hannibal was the only one who would be able to even attempt it. He wouldn’t even try with anyone else. 

Hannibal took his hand, long finger stretching across Will’s cheek and cupped it. It made him freeze, grimace once more, knowing Hannibal was cupping his patient’s cheek. A comfort that felt so wrong. 

“I see you, Will. I always have. Your outward appearance has never hid from me who you are. We are alone together.”

Will offered a smile, it was all he was able to give in return. 

“How tragic is it….that I feel myself fading in and out so recently, to question who I am, only for my identity to be taken from me. It’s like a sick joke.”

“All God knows are sick jokes. Always at our expense. It's why we have to make our own, at times.” 

“You think God did this?”

“If this is the same God we read about in the papers spreading plagues and drowning babes, yes I certainly think it was. Not as funny as he thinks he is, in my opinion.”

“Would you’d heckle him? The divine comedian?” he cocked his head, smiling one of his rueful smiles, born from a dark sense of humor rather than sincerity. 

Hannibal almost laughed at the situation himself, Will’s words coming out of Franklyn’s mouth.

“In a way, our existence is a heckle, to him.” 

Will nodded in agreement, thinking about what exactly that meant. 

The doctor rested a hand on Will’s knee, stroking it softly, such small gestures seemed to calm him. Constantly in fear of rejection and revulsion at the abnormal body he wore. His eyes softened a touch more, and he stopped himself from thanking Hannibal. Maybe Franklyn was wearing off on him, this feeling of adoration was….a little more pronounced than it usually was. 

A knock came to the door, and Will nearly jumped out of his newfound skin. Hannibal turned his head thoughtfully, then found Will again. 

“It is alright. Stay here, I will handle it.” 

Will nodded, not in agreement but simply unable to speak in response. The thought of anyone else seeing him like this made his guts tighten again. He gripped the chair like a life raft.  
Hannibal pushed his chair back and made his way to the door, opening it and allowing his body to obstruct the majority of the view. 

It did not obstruct enough. Franklyn stood in the waiting area, Franklyn in Will Graham’s body. 

Hannibal thought he might actually become ill. It was one thing to see Will in the body of a patient he distasted, it was another to see Will’s body inhabited by an imposter. He did not allow this to manifest, if he were to show any anxiety, who knows how Will would respond. 

“Dr.Lecter, Hell-”

“Franklyn.”

The abrupt utterance of his name caused him to shiver, he looked dumbly into Hannibal’s face, mouth agape, “How did you-”

“That is not important, “ he began, but when he looked up again Franklyn and Will had already made eye contact. They were staring at each other. They both vibrated the most intense trappings of fear Hannibal had ever felt. And that includes all the people he had brutally tortured and dismembered. A tall order, he thinks. 

Will’s veins bulged, he could feel his whole body straining. He wanted to scream, he wanted to thrash, he wanted to rip off his skin and take his body from the man who inhabited it. 

Hannibal sighed and once again, stood in their gaze, “While you are no doubt just as alarmed as we are, I implore you to go home at once. Please allow Mr.Graham and myself some time to figure out how we move forward in this...situation. And regretfully I hope you can understand my need to give you a referral after this...ordeal. Good day, Franklyn.” 

Franklyn’s- well, Will’s- shoulders slumped and he began to exit the waiting area. Disappointed, yet not at all surprised. 

Hannibal begins to shut his door, a sense of relief filling him until it abruptly stopped and he tensed. “Franklyn.” he calls before the man can make his way out any further.  
“Yes?” He turns, a hopeful gleam in his eye. 

The doctor looked him over with stern, displeased eyes. He mapped out the planes of Will’s body, unnerved as he knew Will’s mind to be in the room, behind him. 

“Please be....responsible with Mr. Graham’s body.” He says curtly, his gaze looking like the owner of a Bentley handing their keys over to an intoxicated teenager. Not in good hands, indeed.

Franklyn’s frown grew fractionally larger but he nodded understandingly and finally made his way out with Will’s body in tow. 

Quickly, Hannibal shut the door behind him and immediately looked to Will with concern. Will’s knees were bouncing frantically and the veins near his temples were engorged. A small bead of sweat dripped from his forehead and slid into his brow. 

“I...seeing myself….it makes it so much worse,” he said barking out a laugh that concealed a cry. 

Hannibal brought himself to their seats, and clutched at Will’s shoulder’s gently, encouraging him to look into the doctor's eyes. 

The blood pumping through Will’s veins was thick, viscous, his blood pressure must have been astronomical. Judging by Franklyn’s body type, he respectfully considered the fact that his vessels were probably slightly clogged and his host body was largely predisposed to hypertension, if he didn’t already have it. 

His lips pressed together in a line, “I think I’m going to have a stroke.” 

Hannibal smiled at him, “Good thing you’re with a physician.”

Will shook his head, and laughed quickly, his fists grabbing at the fabric of his pants. His pulse pounded, he could hear it in his ears. Every beat of his heart caused his head to thump. 

“I think I’m having a hypertensive crisis. You should check my blood pressure.” 

Once more Hannibal laughed at him, the smile reaching his eyes and enveloping them. Will traced up his doctor's face, following the smile as it traveled up smooth skin, finally resting as a twinkle in two fond eyes. Will smiled back, though he had been quite serious. 

“We will get through this, Will.” he reassured, looking into Will’s eyes. Every time he looked through Franklyn’s face, he extended a hand for Will to grab, and when they connected neither would let go. Hannibal would see Will for Will, even if the circumstances would not allow him to do so physically. 

Will’s smile twisted again, and tears filled his eyes, he looked away from Hannibal to the statue of the stag. “I know who I am.” he murmured.

“I know you do. I know who you are, Will.” it’s whispered, hushed, and he brings his hand up to cup Will’s cheek. 

The man's eyes fluttered closed again and he leaned into the touch, a ragged breath coming out unevenly. His chest took a deep breath in, soaking in the smells of the office of Hannibal.  
Hannibal’s thumb stroked across his cheek, rhythmically, softly. They sat there for a few seconds in silence. Attempting to wade in the comfort they found in this singular moment. 

“I have always known who you are, Will, who you deny yourself to be.” Will can feel the puff of breath on his face, they had moved fractionally closer with the passing moments. Will seeking comfort, Hannibal offering it. With all the manipulation and gaslighting Hannibal had done, an opportunity like this was almost a gift. Maybe there was a God after all, perhaps he admired Hannibal’s work. 

Will shook his head, eyes still closed, “What do you mean, Hannibal?”

The doctor carded a hand through Will’s curls, stroking his skull with a smooth repetitive motion, “You know.” he breathed. 

Will did not know. Or he did. He did not want to admit to knowing. 

“You know what it is to take a life, the fear and shame you feel are only protective covers, shielding you from the honesty you crave. You can be honest with me, Will. I will only ever want to see you be true to yourself. Death is the surest thing in life, to not find beauty or release in it is to deny the beauty in existence itself.” His face was close to Will’s now, they didn’t open their eyes but their air was shared. It was hushed and intimate the way they breathed in the same oxygen and carbon dioxide the other exhaled. 

“I don’t crave death.”

“You crave change. And what is death, if not the ultimate change. Don’t hide yourself from me. Don’t go back inside now that we are here.”

Will opened his eyes, Hannibal stared back. Neither wavered. Their irises mingled with the others. His breaths became slightly more labored as the doctor took him in both hands, cupping his face delicately. He allowed his forehead to tilt forward, pressing them together, closing the gap that had held tense air. 

“I’m here.” Will whispered.

“I know you are.” Hannibal smiled.

A part of Will wanted to look away, but he felt entranced, trapped in amber to be gazed directly into. Hannibal could look at him like this for the rest of time and they would always see into each other, the moment would not change. A single moment frozen for millions of years. 

“What is this, Hannibal?” 

A smile pulled at the doctor’s mouth, the corners turning up as he opened it to speak, tongue running across a curved lip, “I see you.” he whispered into Will’s parted mouth and Will shut his eyes once more. He couldn’t look. 

Will forgot what body he occupied. If he had been in his own body, it would feel no more alien. If he were in his own body, he would watch it from above as he did now, separated from his body like a near death experience. 

Hannibal closed his lips around Will’s, gentle and slow, they stayed still for a moment, allowing Will’s shock to dissipate enough for him to breathe again. 

Though he would normally have retracted from a touch like this, a completely shocking, bizarre action- he did not. The kiss was the most natural thing he had experienced that day. It was the most normal thing he could ask for. He did not think about whose body he was in, instead he could only imagine the body he was pressed against. 

He pushed himself to the edge of his seat, leaning in cautiously but filled with a sense of desperation. Hannibal’s lips were warm, full and soft. He tasted mildly of coffee. 

Will took a deep breath, parting his lips for a fast moment before he closed them back around Hannibal’s, a fear that if the kiss stopped now it wouldn’t continue. If they stopped he would remember who and what he was at that moment. 

Strong hands encircled his head, artist hands, pulling him in close to Hannibal’s mouth. He tilted his head, seeking more warmth, it was needy and wanting the way his tongue swiftly brushed along the doctor’s lips, it begged to be let in. 

Hannibal sighed contentedly and opened further, his tongue meeting with Will’s immediately, sliding alongside each other like they had never tasted before. The sensation of Will’s want was worth everything in the world and he moaned quietly as Will grunted into him. Their thighs pressed together as they sought connection, a way to intertwine their bodies in their seats, to mold as close as possible. 

Will’s hands pressed against Hannibal’s chest, gripping the fabric so Hannibal could not pull away from what he had started, so he couldn’t pull back and look at a body that wasn’t Will’s. His right palm shoved fabric aside as Hannibal sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and wound his long fingers in his curls, he nipped lightly at the pink skin, not breaking it but sending a shiver down his spine which reverberated back into Hannibal’s body as Will’s hips twitched against him. 

The fingertips pressed against Hannibal’s breast pushed the last bit of fabric that covered him and Will’s hand snuck into the shirt, pressing his palm against Hannibal’s heart. His chest was firm, soft, the thumping beneath his fingertips only made his blood pump harder. They pulsed together, no longer separate beings, but inherently entwined. He twisted his fingers in the silver chest hair, gripping it tight. 

“Will'' Hannibal whispered into his open mouth, pulling him down on top of him as he sat back in the chair, pulling Will’s chest to his, their hips snug together. Will was keenly aware his body was not as lithe as it normally was, but he could not stop himself from giving in. All he could see was Hannibal, he couldn’t allow himself to dwell on anything else.

Hannibal ran his hand down Will’s back, resting on the hollow of his spine above his hips and in return, arms wrapped around his neck, sliding up from his chest before he sunk their mouths together again tightly. It was feral but gentle, the kisses were deep and wet but not rushed or painful. It was a heavy layer of want that laid atop them both, forcing their bodies down into each other. 

A kiss was pressed deep into Will’s lips as he was gripped, the doctor sucked weakly at his tongue once more before pulling back and nibbling his sharp teeth down Will’s jaw, finding their home in his neck. Hannibal kneaded at the skin, worrying it between flushed lips, sucking a loving bruise into the flesh he lapped at. Will’s head thrown back, he moaned low and deep within himself, once more Hannibal felt it within him, a hunger they both could not sate for the other. They reached into each other's minds with eager hands, yet they never allowed their hands to seek the same physically. 

Will felt as if a dam had broken inside him, tears threatened to weep out of his closed eyes but he let himself ignore it to focus on the push of his skin into Hannibal’s mouth. He should have been more reluctant, should have withdrawn, but no part of him wanted that. This is all he wanted. 

“Hannibal.” he allowed the whisper to float out like worship, spreading fingers in the doctor’s sandy hair. Hannibal hummed beneath him, kissing and nipping at his collarbone. He felt boneless and naked. 

Will opened his eyes, looking down at Hannibal to watch him kiss his chest. He focused on his lips, large and red pressing into skin, while he ignored the body beneath them. His legs were on either side of Hannibal now and it was clear the arousal that clung to his spine was not a secret. Hannibal looked up at him, a deep sense of longing and want in his eyes, but Will couldn’t look for very long. The mixture of heady desire and embarrassment was potent, he thought for a moment that he should tell Hannibal to stop, he should remind him how insane this all was and Will could go back home filled with shame and lay in bed until he either got his body back or died. 

The feeling of a large palm pressing into his groin took him straight out of any coherent thought and he swallowed as he felt himself choke on air. Hannibal laughed quietly beneath him, but tilted his head back up to find Will’s lips as his fingers pressed into the hard length beneath the fabric, tracing and stroking with just enough friction to make Will whine. Hannibal nuzzled their faces together, sucking on the pink of Wills lips as his hands found Hannibal’s jaw, forbidding them to part for any air. 

Hannibal had wanted an invitation into Will in any capacity he would give. He thought about this possibility, this moment, and though Will wanted to feign hesitancy, he had clearly desired it as well. 

His hands fumbled with the zipper, Will did not stop him, and he reached into his briefs to pull out his hard cock. He didn’t need to look, he could feel and see Will above him as he had always pictured him. Wanting and hungry. 

A groan was pulled from his throat, like someone had reached their hand inside and tugged it out. Hannibal pressed a soft tender kiss to Will’s lips before he pulled his head back and spit a decent amount into his hand. Will stared at him, chest heavy, longing to touch. Hannibal’s nose brushed against his as he lifted their mouths back together, his free hand stroking Will’s back while the other wrapped around the heated skin between them. Will stuttered, gasping wide which Hannibal took as an oppurnitnity to slip their tongues back together, tasting and feeling. 

Will’s hips drew forward involuntarily, with each pull from Hannibal’s elegant fingers he felt his lungs squeeze. His cock felt like it was pulsing, vibrating in the doctor’s careful hand. Hannibal’s thumb slid up the underside, swirling wettened circles into his tip. Will could tell they mimicked a kiss, from Hannibal’s mouth. 

His fingers slid through Hannibal’s gelled hair as he cradled his skull, twisting his fingers and pulling when the doctor squeezed around him. His chest rose rapidly, the pull of his gut making oxygen harder and harder to latch onto. Will tucked so many parts of himself away, and this was one of them. One could argue that Hannibal was taking advantage of a vulnerable situation, and he certainly was, happily. This is not a situation that the average person would want to take advantage of and yet he did. A normal person would find horror in Will’s very existence. Hannibal never did, and never would. 

That dawned on him the most readily, that Hannibal would adapt to any horrific situation, tolerate something so bizzare if it was with Will. Only because it was Will. 

“Please,” he whimpered, pressing their foreheads together. Hannibal’s wrist twisted once more as he looked up, eyes locking onto Will’s, he removed his hand and took them to his suit pants, hurriedly undoing the clasps as Will’s tongue lapped along his cheekbone. Delicate presses of skin against Hannibal’s temple, seeping into the vessels and filling him with warmth. 

His mouth was agape beneath Will’s, who was still absentmindedly pressing his mouth to Hannibal’s skin and hair. Drinking him in, consuming him without thought. Hannibal gave himself a stroke before pulling Will’s hips tighter to his, taking his tongue to adam's apple and licking a long line to the underside of Will’s chin that caused them both to shiver, skin involuntarily joining in a shared tremble. 

He wrapped his hand around both himself and Will, face scrunching as he felt their hot skin joining, sliding together, the pressure of his hand and his heat overwhelming to them both. 

Will’s slim fingers tugged at his shirt. yanking Hannibal forward as he opened his neck up further to Will’s mouth. His blunt nails dug into the meat of Hannibal’s neck, the scent of bar soap, wood, filling his nostrils. 

Their erections were tight together, hips rutting close unsuccessful in creating anything but more hunger, satiating the want only momentarily till they pressed into each other harder, begging the next push to last and fill them. 

Hannibal’s fingers rolled over their precum, small drops, which were gathered up by his fingerprints and slid back down their joined lengths. Will’s eyes lowered as he watched it, feeling unable to spill words out, incapable of sounds that weren’t base grunts of language. 

“What are we doing?” he finally sputtered, eyes drifting shut, his hips angling to allow Hannibal’s hands more room. A dance of skin, breath and warmth. 

The doctor’s eyes lifted and his fingers found Will’s cock solely, languidly stroking the length as Will squirmed above him, his mouth filling with saliva minutely. “We are doing what we have always wanted.” his lips curved around the words, and he licked them quickly, the panting between his parted mouth drying the smooth skin.

Dark brows flex as he absorbs Hannibal’s words, he nods once, in agreement. 

“Do you want to do this?” 

Will exhales, long, a breath that had been held in a moment too much. His hand finds Hannibal’s jaw again and he nods, pressing lips to lips, sealing them together. 

Hannibal’s lips curve to a smile beneath Will’s kiss. When they part, their eyes join again. “Move to my desk.” it is as much of an order as it is a beg. 

Lifting himself off Hannibal he steps back a moment to drink in the image of the man in front of him. He looks, for once, appropriately disheveled. Will was pleased to have been the one to cause a slip in the perfect mask Hannibal always held in front of him. 

His face was full of desperate emotion, his breaths were noticeable and large, his cock was exposed. He was exposed. 

Hannibal lifted himself gracefully, touching Will’s elbows gently to bring them together for one more moment in a chaste kiss. It was almost a thanks, for his trust. 

He inclined his head, and Will moved to the desk he regularly sat upon so innocently. 

Hannibal followed close behind, his hand always lingering on the man before him, disallowing the connection they had in this space of the universe to be lost if they were to stop touching.

Will’s chest rose shakily, the reality of this sunk into him like a stone covered in honey. Sweet but heavy inside him. His fingers sought Franklyn’s trousers and he pushed them down. 

Hannibal’s mouth lingered over the back of Will’s neck, he whispered into the skin, words that Will couldn’t understand, phrases he would blush at if he could. The hot air sent a shiver through him that wrapped around his cock, jerking it softly, his back arched involuntarily and Will felt Hannibal press against him, greedy. 

The doctor’s hand sought a drawer of the desk, removing a small bottle from it, he bit Will’s skin and set it on the table next to his hand. 

“Tell me why you have that?” He laughed.

“On the off chance you ever wanted our therapy sessions to progress into less orthodox territories, I am nothing if not prepared.” 

“On the off chance they did? I think you know that they have.”

“All the more reason for me to have this, then.” Will could feel the smile at his neck, once more he trembled. Hannibal nosed his ear, 

“Lay down.” 

Will bent over the desk without so much as a thought. 

Hands pet down Will’s sides like he was a piece of marble, stroked like a soft cut of stone, smooth against hot fingertips. He expected to feel one of them press against him, inside him, what he felt instead was the heated air of a man’s breath. 

Before he could speak, Hannibal’s tongue pressed against him. He cried out. His cock pulsed against the wood. 

“What?” he finally breathed. His insides felt incensed. The heat of his body was lesser compared to the heat of Hannibal’s mouth, pressed so close against him. His face scrunched in disbelief and he lay his head on his arms, either out of embarrassment he hid his face away from God, or rapture. 

“Shh shh shh” Hannibal whispered in return, his large hands cascaded down Will’s thighs, stroking them melodically as his lips pressed a solid wet kiss to Will’s opening. He hummed to himself happily as he felt Will’s thighs tighten and strain, back arching into him, pushing the point of their connection closer. 

Long drags of his tongue coated Will, interspersed with small frequent flicks, kisses replacing them when Will cried out and gripped the desk with force. His chest heaved on the solid cold surface until it matched his temperature, his warmth must have leached into the surrounding atoms. 

“Please” he whispered into the wood. He went unanswered, the only response being Hannibal’s tongue forcing its way inside him. “God.” he groaned, swallowing down his spit and rolling his hips back. He could feel Hannibal’s smile again, it always made itself known. 

“This is too much.” 

Hannibal pressed a wet thumb against him, massaging gently as he let his soaked mouth drift to Will’s balls, kissing tenderly before rolling his tongue over them like he would a meal. 

“It is not too much, Will, it is nowhere near close.” 

His teeth scraped against Will’s perineum and the quiet room filled with a rough groan. 

The spear of Hannibal’s tongue was back inside him, languidly dipping in and out, he curled his fingers in his hair to stop from touching, to stop himself from pulling Hannibal deeper.

“No need to be shy with me.” Hannibal whispered, trailing lube covered fingers up Will’s inner thighs, he took a patch of soft skin and bit down playfully. Small dents littered the epidermis and Hannibal took them back into his mouth, sucking them to health. 

In this moment Will forgot who he was, he was some version of himself perhaps, but all he was capable of being aware was the man relentlessly pushing into him, as he had done so many times intellectually. His presence within Will’s body metaphorically began to meet the presence breaching him physically. 

What is it to be loved and understood so wholly? What is it to be seen past the body you inhabit into the soul that makes up everything you truly are? 

Hannibal’s finger pressed against Will’s hole, and as he ground his hips backwards into Hannibal’s tongue, it pressed gently inside. 

Will paused. Hannibal slowed. He sunk in softly, almost timid, and pressed his lips against the end of his finger, flush with the skin. They each took a deep breath. 

Hannibal’s free hand spread Will’s legs politely, and cupped his cock as he barely moved his finger. It was thoughtful and soft, he pressed inside further and stroked smoothly. Will’s legs trembled beneath him. 

Kisses were spread along Will’s hips as Hannibal’s long finger sat inside him, still. For a moment he could forget it was there. His cock stirred feeling wet breath against the back of his thighs. Steadily, Will pushed back into it and with this, Hannibal guided his finger partly out before joining Will’s hips in a sensitive, cautious dance. 

When Will sank back, Hannibal’s slicked finger deepened and his tongue greeted him. He felt a tear roll onto his cheek. The sensation was that of being worshipped. To Hannibal, it was taking communion. 

There was a liquid feeling to Will like this, pliable and safe in careful hands. Hannibal massaged the flesh beneath his skin, pressing wet, warm kisses to the backs of Will’s thigh as he pulled grunt and moan and gasp from his willing body. 

When Hannibal kissed the tip of Will’s cock, holding it gentle between his fingertips, Will clenched around him and cried. 

Eyes shut, Hannibal took this invitation to mouth his way back to his hand, encircling the entrance with his lips, spit slipping inside as he pushed a second digit in. Will cried out again, stilled, and said Hannibal’s name into the skin of his arms. 

The heat radiated off his body, settling over Hannibal with a glow. His fingers pressed in deep, and he paused, nibbling on the join of Will’s thighs- drawing the pain to his mouth. His hand twisted but moved no deeper, strayed in no farther. 

A pink tongue pressed itself to the pearl at Will’s tip and retreated back inside, to savor. 

“So beautiful like this.” he said softly into the pinkened flesh beneath him. Will felt another pearl press against wet lips. 

“How could you ever think I would not have you in any way you would give yourself to me.” 

His fingers moved then, deeper, brushing against something smooth inside him. They curled, beckoned Will closer, and closer his body came pushing into the feeling that both floated him and grounded him like a weight. His head slumped onto the table and he whispered Hannibal’s name again. 

The doctor’s chest swelled seeing Will so vulnerable, so eager to be taken by him. The walls he so often held up as a shield lay crumbled at his feet. All it took was the destruction of everything he understood. Something Hannibal would have managed, eventually. 

The pads of his fingers circled around the gland inside him, pressure increased delicately as he mouthed at the hot skin. He wondered if he could draw Will with the tip of his tongue. 

“More.” came muffled from the wood. 

Smiling, Hannibal gripped his own cock, squeezing once before he sighed and drizzled the bottle over a third finger. “If you insist.” 

It pressed into Will with more carelessness, and together he moved his fingertips in tandem, twisting them inside the ever eager body before him. Will winced at the breach, a pressure still present but ever so fading. He scraped his nails over the wood, lifting his legs to push the hand back to the spot it had encircled. 

Hannibal’s mouth was wet, filling with saliva as he watched Will work his ass into the deft fingers, debauched and desperate. He wanted nothing but this feeling of Will around him, of Will so utterly hungry for him, forever. 

His thighs shook slightly, a subtle tremble of the muscles as he pushed himself back again and again into the hot hand that met him. His whole body tightened, not quite filled. He wanted to be filled. The emptiness was overwhelming, when Hannibal did not insert himself into Will, as he did in every other way. 

“Please.” rasped against the wood of the desk, barely heard, before he spoke up again. “Hannibal please, fill me up. I need you,” he whimpered, a wet and wanton gasp, “inside.” 

The doctor’s cock twitched, pounding and hot. He circled Will’s hole once more before he withdrew his fingers slowly, treasuring the softness. 

Hannibal stood then pressing himself against Will with force, he bent over his back, kissing his shoulder, the words drifting from his lips into Will’s mind, “Turn around. On your back.”

Will shuddered at the thought. “Why?”

Hannibal’s strong hands drew soft trails up his skin, leaving white streaks in their wake that disappeared after seconds. The slickness of his fingertips kissing the flesh with a wetness that made him shiver. 

“I want to see you.” 

Will’s chest tightened, but he turned, facing Hannibal now their chests pressed together and lifted his head to place a kiss to his chin. The doctor ran a thumb over Will’s cheek, appraising, as he watched the blues of Will’s eyes dance beneath dilating pupils. 

Neither said anymore. He laid back, never looking away. 

Hannibal’s palms pressed into Will’s thighs, spreading them and pushing them back. He gave a soft squeeze. His hands then found the lube, drenching himself in it, Will chuckled, “Is that much necessary?”

Hannibal eyed him seriously, “Of course it is.” 

The press of his tip sunk into Will then, and he understood, it was necessary. 

He let out a stiff sigh and looked into Will’s eyes, searching. Will nodded once and bit his cheek.  
Hannibal placed a hand on the side of his flushed chest, thumb stroking the skin, “Breathe.”

Will let out a breath that he held, and Hannibal pushed in. Will winced at the sensation but opened his eyes to watch Hannibal’s face, eyes shut momentarily to appreciate the sensation, screwed tight in pleasure but opened quickly to look at Will. He paused and they stared into each other. 

Will could see the darkness beneath the gold pools, half lidded and hungry. For a moment he was frightened, the knowledge that Hannibal had always wanted this part of him and was finally taking it. It felt like supping with the devil. He didn’t quite know why.

The warmth of Hannibal’s cock speared Will deep, the movement so slow but reckless all the same. He felt as if Hannibal had stabbed him, pushing into his body with a frightening intimacy that felt too close, but instead of a cry he moaned- his mouth circling Hannibal’s name like it was his cock in Will’s mouth. It was unhinged, unwarranted, the way he mouthed those syllables. Mouth wet and tongue moist with hunger. He reached up, grabbing Hannibal’s arm, against his shoulder his hand shook. 

The skin around Hannibal’s nose scrunched in a subtle way it only ever did when we was about to ravage a human body, tear it apart, flesh from muscle and muscle from bone. But the snarl worked his upper lip, curled it, and he panted deeply as he seated himself fully within Will’s pained, welcoming body. 

His tightness, the heat of his core felt like the warm blood that coated Hannibal as he worked. Will’s cry of pleasure slicked him like the screams of his victims. This was an entirely different pleasure that he took from a human body, it was a mutual gain. It was one he could have never thought so pleasurable until he experienced it now. 

Hannibal’s taut stomach pressed against Will’s skin as he bent over him, pressing their chests tight, he wanted to kiss the mouth that screamed his name. He wanted to suck the tongue of the man who dared to make him feel any ounce of vulnerability, who cried so sweetly at simply feeling his thickness fulfill him. 

Pale fingers creeped along the doctor's chest as they kissed, eyes rolled back in their sockets beneath closed lids, he pulled at the silver hair of Hannibal’s bulky torso. He felt Hannibal thrust further in him, at this tug, and he bit his curved lips in return- following an appreciative, gentle sweep of the muscle in his mouth. 

Hannibal’s large hands found Will’s hips, and they wrapped around them like he held a precious antique. He squeezed at the adipose tissue, if his eyes were open he would have appreciated the pink tinge the skin awarded his fingertips. Instead they felt each other, for the moment, touch being their sole connection as the arms of their minds joined fully, twisting around each other in an impossible grip. 

He pulled Will’s hips onto his cock, rocking him rhythmically, his gently sweat slicked skin slipping on the smoothness of the table. They rolled their necks, tears breaching the water lines of their eyes. 

Will’s moans were guttural, they came from deep within his core and Hannibal could almost feel them roll up his cock, into his chest, and he returned them back to his lover with deep rumbles from his chest. 

Both of Will’s legs slid up Hannibal’s body, tenderly caressing his sides as he trapped the predator above him. It was then that he opened his eyes to look at Will, raising his back to afford Will one his fingers. It was not till Hannibal’s thumb pressed against his lips that Will opened both his mouth and his eyes, looking into the deep set pools of honey as he sucked at the digit before him. His tongue swirled, and his cheeks hollowed as he meekly mouthed it. Hannibal’s hips stuttered and he began to pound harder, feeling Will’s tongue on his neck, his chest, feeling it flutter against his tip as he angled himself to pierce Will’s prostate. 

Every inch of Will wanted to sob, it felt so good to finally be held and seen, well and truly fucked from the one person whose connection he was able to actually obtain. He wanted to memorize every breath Hannibal took, every utterance of his name under Hannibal’s breath, every inch he moved on the desk an arrow delved deeper into the atrium of his heart. 

What was it to be understood for either of them? Hannibal’s closest encounter was not one borne of understanding, but observation. It was the same for Will. Not understood but watched and studied like a curiosity. If they are to be curio’s, let them reside on the same shelf, next to each other where they can sit and belong. 

Hannibal slid his thumb from Will’s mouth, soaked as it was, and ran his hand against the rough jaw prickled with hair. He felt Will’s body pull him back inside with every retreating thrust and it made him feel weak. The blue of Will’s eyes was iridescent, tracking every lidded gaze Hannibal afforded him, it was an intimacy that joined them from the soles of their feet to the bony ceiling of their skulls. 

Every roll of Hannibal’s hips drew a cry from the man beneath him, and every cry from the man beneath him pulled an animalistic groan out of him in return. They were so insync they were almost out of it, Will gripping the edge of the desk with his fingertips, pushing himself into the thick cock stabbing him, their rhythms nearly mismatched but joining every time the southern skin touched. 

“Hannibal...I’m...please.” he finally whispered out, his cock leaking against his stomach, his legs aching as he desperately pulled them back further to his chest- daring the doctor to get closer, to press their cells together as tight as physics would allow. 

Hannibal nodded, beads of sweat licking his normally smooth pristine forehead, he brought a free hand to Will’s length, gripping it as he rocked. “Yes, Will, yes.”

It may have been the feeling of Will’s length beginning to spasm in his hand, a minute change in the muscles beneath his palm, or it may have been the way Will began to cry but left his eyes open- looking into Hannibal as if he was transparent- that his beating heart was under a veil of glass and glass alone. 

Hannibal’s release spurted out of him in a long stream of pearlescent warmth. Soon, the same covered Hannibal’s elegant hands, as Will recognized what was happening. Neither could wait for the other, they couldn’t be in any space that was not the inherent space the other was in. 

For a moment Hannibal wondered if it was what death felt like, such pure pressure and bliss overwhelming neurons in an indistinguible way. A feeling both pleasurable, painful, and indescribable. La petite mort. Will’s cries told him otherwise, he begged Hannibal to stop to hold him, and so he did. 

His hand was removed, filthy as it was he leaned down and circled Will in his arms, pressing his head to Will’s chest- the shell of his ear against Will’s beating heart. 

Hannibal did not cry, he felt few emotions during the act of sex, but his eyes were wet. Tears danced around the whites as he took in a deep steadying breath, the heat and salt from Will’s skin filling his nose. He could taste Will beneath his tongue. So sweet and bitter, his ravaged flesh was, like the decay of a flower. The curved lips of the doctor searched for the skin that had rested against his cheek, he pressed his mouth to Will’s sternum, leaving a deep and inelegant kiss against the muscle that pounded beneath the shield that was his body. 

He nosed his way up to Will’s collar bone, pressing another tender kiss to the bottom of Will’s prickly chin. His breath caressed the man beneath him so gently, as sensitive as he now was, and Will’s body trembled beneath him. “Oh.” Hannibal breathed, feeling Will shake around the oversensitive cock that was still inside him, trapping the proof of their union between them both. He had to stifle his own cry, as he heard Will’s moan press against his teeth. 

The soft touch of Hannibal’s hand up Will’s sides came to trail the semen draping his stomach, smoothing it against his pale skin, “ I have never experienced anything so beautiful, Will, as you are now.” He sighed, leaving a kiss on Will’s adam’s apple as he allowed his hips to pull out of the tortuous heat, and rest against his lover instead. 

“Hannibal I…” He began, hands running up Hannibal’s arms, gripping tightly and desperately as if to hold on to reality. 

Before the doctor could wrap his hand around Will’s cheek, before he could kiss his lips with more tenderness than Hannibal had ever sincerely afforded anyone, a harsh knock came to the door startling them both.  
Dread pooled in Will’s gut, deep and low, in Hannibal’s there pooled a burning anger, violent against such a blissful moment being disturbed. He lifted himself off the soft, warm body beneath him, hands still holding on as if to protect him from the intrusion. 

“I’ll take care of it, dear Will.” he breathed, bending down to pick up a piece of clothing and drape it over Will, hiding his body from the cool air that pressed against him in Hannibal’s absence. 

Three knocks came once more, abrupt, the tremble in the hand that left them almost transparent through the wood of the door. Hannibal pulled on his clothing swiftly, but made no effort to appear any less disheveled. Whatever were to happen now, it could be no more absurd, and even he could not pretend a cool even hand in the face of a morning so bizarre. 

Will hid himself against the desk, staring at the door in a vile anticipation that raised the hair on his neck. Hannibal intercepted the next knock, angling himself this time more so in the doorway to allow no viewing of the room behind him at all. His look was stern, protective, and unforgiving. 

Franklyn Froideveaux stared back at him, shaking and sweating, in his own body. 

Before he could exhale, the door had been once more shut in his face. He stared into the grain of the wood for a depressing 20 seconds before he left the office, in search of his car, in search of a grocery store, in search of some cheese. 

Hannibal’s slamming of the door had shaken each of the three men, their bones all rattled within them, but he wasted no time in turning to face his desk, to look at the man sat upon it with wide, fearful eyes.

Dark curls, pale skin, a thin beard, a muscular body. Will Graham sat naked on Hannibal Lecter’s desk, trembling, clutching a suit jacket to his bare chest. 

“Will.” he laughed,the wrinkles of his eyes stretching far out into the softness of his skin, as a smile graced the smooth planes of his face. 

The profiler looked down at his hands, noting the skin he had lived in for decades. He pulled the jacket away from his body, looking down at the nakedness beneath him. Familiar. It was familiar and known. He sighed a deep shaking sigh, the breath rushing out of him. Whether his laughter came first, or his tears, he would never be sure. 

Hannibal had made his way to the desk before Will had even fully recognized he was in his own body, his arms opened strong and wide, trapping Will in a grasp so firm and whole he may have squeezed Will out of his newly rejoined body. 

They said nothing for that moment, Will buried himself in Hannibal, and Hannibal buried himself within Will. “I see you. I always saw you.” he finally breathed into the warmth of Will’s neck, kissing it softly. 

Like this is where they stayed. Where else would either of them go.


End file.
